Chopsticks
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Latest in the Chance/Ilsa torture series! Ilsa's choice of dinnerware leaves them both hungry for something other than lunch. Yes, Loves, he is shirtless once again! I hope ya'll aren't getting tired of these because I adore them!


_He was dead. _

Okay, so that was an exaggeration but if _she _kept up with the torture, then he'd end up six feet under. He could handle a lot of things but, holy mother of all things good in this world, did she really have to tease him? With chop-sticks of all things?

He'll take yes for five-hundred, Alex.

He was never ordering from the Chinese restaurant down the street. They were too authentic and he was pretty sure that too much more of that authenticity was going to drive him out of his mind. She had asked him to order some lunch and relieve everyone of whatever task they had assigned themselves too. She had wanted whatever noodle dish was on the menu and told him not to worry about the chopsticks.

He'd never be able to eat chicken lo-mein again.

Once lunch had been delivered and everyone had smelled food, they had gathered in the lobby, huddled around the coffee table eagerly awaiting their food.

"Chicken lo-mein." Chance whispered, handing her the container and a set of chop-sticks. "About the only pasta dish you can get from them."

Ilsa smiled as she took the container from him and the cellophane wrapped chopsticks. She unwrapped them, positioned them between her fingers properly and set about eating her meal. Therein lies the problem-at least for him it's a problem, especially when you're a man and testosterone controlled about ninety percent of your thoughts.

Her method was quite simple really, grasp the noodles, twirl the chopsticks which effectively wrapped the noodles around said chopsticks. Then came the torture. Watching her suck said noodles from the chopsticks with her full lips-the same full lips that had sucked on his lips not a week ago.

"Uh, guys, I'll be right back, I need a drink." Chance muttered as he stood up and raced into the kitchen.

"He's not going to get a drink." Ilsa smirked as she watched him leave. She held her food out to Guerrero, "Here, Guerrero, I'm not hungry anymore, finish it."

Guerrero eagerly took the food as she excused herself from the table and made her way into the small kitchen area. Chance was leaning against the counter, breathing as deeply as his lungs would allow. "Mr. Chance."

"Ilsa," Chance growled as she walked up to him and slipped her arms around his waist. "Do you know how much it took out of me to not attack you out there?"

Ilsa chuckled as she pressed her face into his shoulder blade, breathing in the warmth of fresh cotton and the spicy freshness of his body wash. She curled her fingers, raking her fingernails over his abdomen through his thin cotton t-shirt.

"Ilsa." Chance groaned, repressing his sudden need to rid himself of the t-shirt and burn it. She smirked into his shoulder blade as she slipped her hands under the robin's egg blue t-shirt and gently raked her nails across his delightfully toned abdomen.

"You work out." Ilsa noted into his shoulder blade. "You don't get this much muscle just protecting people."

"No, I work out quite a bit. I kick-box with Guerrero and practice martial arts quite a bit." Chance growled as he spun around and wrapped his arms around her. "You're pure evil, woman."

"You'll get revenge later." Ilsa laughed as he leaned down, "I'm sure of it."

"You bet," Chance whispered, crashing his lips against hers.

xxx

Had she known that upon requesting Chinese food-especially from the authentic restaurant down the street-she would be tortured like this, she might have avoided Chinese altogether. Although the hot, steamy kisses in the kitchen had been well worth it at the time, as she watched move around sans shirt, dragon tattoo on full display, she was beginning to wonder if the mini torture session she had put him through was worth this kind of torture.

The man was delicious. In every single sense of the word.

He had told her that she tortured him when she ate her lunch earlier but this was far beyond what she had done to him. This was more than just eating with a pair of chopsticks. This was unadulterated malicious torture. Torture that only a man with the physique and bashful confidence like Christopher Chance could pull off. He had gone out for a jog to, ahem, clear his mind of the dirty thoughts. Of course when he came back he was sweaty and in need of a shower.

That wasn't the problem. The problem was that after the shower, he conveniently forgot to put a shirt on.

Crap!

Now here he was walking around the office in a pair of delicious jeans with his oh-so-sexy abs and freaking amazing arms and here she was going crazy.

"Mr. Chance,"

"Hello Ilsa,"

There it was. That damningly sexy growl that he liked to use just to make her blush thirty different shades of red. He was to sexy for his own good sometimes. It was like he wasn't even trying and he could make her blush shades of red, her own husband hadn't been able to achieve.

"I thought we discussed you going shirtless when I'm working?" Ilsa questioned through clenched teeth.

"Did we?" Chance asked, pretending to have forgotten about the discussion. "It must have slipped my mind."

"Like putting on a shirt just conveniently slipped your mind?" Ilsa questioned in what could only be described as fake understanding. "Are you having memory trouble, Mr. Chance?"

Chance pretended to think for a minute before shaking his head, "No."

"Really?" Ilsa asked him just for argument's sake.

"No." Chance shook his head, "No memory trouble."

With that said, she walked away without another word. He groaned at the realization that her revenge would come when he least expected it. Ilsa smirked as she sauntered into her office and sat down at her desk, mentally planning her revenge.

This would be so much fun.

xxx

God help him.

Ilsa Pucci seemed to be on a mission. If he wasn't mistaken, that mission was to send him six feet under with one smoldering glance. It didn't take a genius to figure that out, or to figure out that the top three buttons on her blouse were not unbuttoned for any reason other than to tease him. He was pretty sure her shirt had been perfectly buttoned when she came in that morning but sometime between then and now, she had unbuttoned a few buttons and revealed her, ahem, generous cleavage.

"What the he-?" Chance trailed off as she sauntered out of her office in the blue shirt that she had unbuttoned. "Hot-"

"What was that, Mr. Chance?" Ilsa asked innocently, her wide brown eyes faking an innocence that had long since left.

"Umm. Nothing?" Chance offered half-halfheartedly, trying not to let his blue eyes drift down to the generous cleavage she had oh-so-innocently put on display for all to see.

Ilsa smirked, "Oh now Mr. Chance, I don't believe that so why don't you try again?"

"Nothing, Ilsa, I was just trying to think of..of the..." Chance fumbled for an answer that hopefully wouldn't land him in too much trouble.

"Of the what? Of something other than my shirt?" Ilsa asked him, faking innocence again.

"Yea, that works." Chance shrugged.

"You really are a bad liar." Ilsa chuckled.

"But-" Chance mumbled as he slipped his arms around and leaned down closer, "-I'm a good kisser, right?"

Ilsa slipped her hands into his hair and pulled him down a little more, "I um, um, I-"

"What's the matter, Ilsa?" Chance smirked as he held her against him tighter, his lips barely brushing hers as he spoke.

"Mr. Chance," Ilsa breathed, her lack of coherent thought keeping her from going any farther.

Freaking lips. If his lips didn't look so delicious and tempting, she might have been able to form coherent thought but as of now, all coherent thought had ceased to exist. All she could process was that his lips were mere millimeters from hers and if she pulled on his hair just right, he'd have no choice but to close the gap. Without a second thought, she tugged on his hair and got exactly the reaction she was hoping for. She swallowed his deep growl as his lips crashed against hers and the rest of the world was drowned out.

Maybe they'd have to eat Chinese again. After all, he needed some excuse for her to eat with chopsticks again!

* * *

><p><strong>Oh my! this was like freaking hot, I think this one might be my favorite! So I'm making good on a promise I made to niagaraweasel, who is seriously the best and I really love her! This sexy piece of deliciousness is for you, my dear, and no I'm not talking about the story ;) <strong>

**P.M. me if you love this sexy hunk of man-meat as much as I do, we could be really good friends! (And no, Ladies, I'm not talking about Guerrero! That particular piece of meat is not to my taste although he is awesome!) **

**Alright my Loves, I bid you goodbye for now, until I find another excuse to write this smexi goodness! **

**Love you, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove (And Mark Valley obsessed.) **


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